Page 1 of Catching Sparks

1

GARRISON

I would rather pluck my eyes out with rusted nails than listen to Blake Sterling drone on and on about next quarter’s budget for a single moment more. The only budget I care about is the one that ensures my bank account continues to grow nice and fat.

Blake has a way of speaking down his nose at the rest of us, a false king on a stolen throne. I’m self-aware enough to recognize my own habit of doing the same, but I’m no false king, and my throne was crafted just for me.

Unfortunately, my own feelings on the matter have mattered fuck all. While Blake may be nearly as big of a prick as me, he has expertise in finance that is invaluable to my company—the record label that has become my only love. His arrogant ass knows exactly that, and he makes sure I won’t forget it as often as possible.

The boardroom is freezing, the air conditioning puffing heavily regardless of the early spring chill outside. I’ve always grown too hot in these meetings, the weight of multiple beady eyes on me cranking the dial on my internal temperature until I’m fighting a sweat. Nobody in this room will ever know that little tidbit, however. Not ever.

Being CEO of the second biggest record label in North America doesn’t allow me to show weakness. Not to my competitors and certainly not my allies. Every person in this room bows at my every command, and it will stay that way. Have mercy on the person of power who allows his employees to consider him a friend. The lack of respect makes me sick.

I avoid looking at my father, irritation burning beneath my skin.

“I think it would be far more beneficial to start making the change sooner than later. Physical sales are down. That’s a fact. It’s time to start flowing more money into the electronic platforms,” Blake announces, hands clasped on the expensive glass meeting table.

I stay silent, watching the distaste grow in the eyes of far too many board members. Swift Edge Records has outgrown the majority of these men. They’re old, friends of my father’s long before this label came to be, back when he was in the position of our most successful artists.

Yes, their input was appreciated during the early years, but we’re now seven in. The infant company they helped nurture is a successful adult now, ready to shed the helicopter parents.

Arthur Caldwell is a stubborn prick, so it’s not surprising when he chimes in despite the sharp look from the man on his right, my father, Reggie Beckett. “There isn’t enough evidence to make that conclusion yet. Who’s to say this isn’t another so-called fad? Those seem to be quite popular among your generation.”

“A fad is, majority of the time, short and sweet. This, Arthur, is not short nor sweet,” Blake returns dully.

My phone buzzes on the table. I drop my gaze to the screen and bring it back up again as I silence the call. The lack of discussion around the table as I do so pisses me off. Arching one brow, I ask no one in particular, “Is it settled, then, or have you finished gawking?”

A dozen sets of eyes leap from me, finding the table and each other mighty interesting. This issue is not settled, then. Shocking.

Blake clears his throat, frustration making him stiffen as he looks to me. “What is your opinion on what I’m proposing? Yes or no?”

I clasp my hands and rest them on the back of my laptop as I lean forward in my seat. The tie knotted at the base of my throat pulls when I swallow. Arthur narrows his dark eyes on me expectantly. His first mistake today.

My vice-president, Nathan Beaumont, sits silent, but I catch his smirk in the corner of my eye. A tremendous shit disturber, my closest friend, but invaluable nonetheless. I’ve yet to meet someone in this industry with the backbone and intelligence that he has in spades.

Without meeting Blake’s awaiting stare, I say, “CDs are a waste of time. Vinyls sell to loyal listeners. I assume they always will.” Arthur opens his thin lips to interrupt, but I lift a hand, silencing him. “I’m aware we can’t cut CDs out completely. There will always be those in search of one. But we are spending far too much on their production. I don’t like wasting money, Arthur, as I’m sure you don’t enjoy when we do either.”

“And you assume that money is better spent digitally?” he grits out.

“There’s no need to assume when we have the proof of it. The numbers don’t lie, Arthur. Not now and not twenty years ago. It’s time to embrace the change,” Blake says.

Another look around the table exposes those in agreement and those choking down their refusal. These meetings are tiresome. The arguments have become an expectation. It’s almost time to make changes, company-altering ones.

I tense my jaw when my phone buzzes again. Without bothering to look at the number again, I silence it and jump back into the conversation before they lose focus again like children.

“We’ll leave it to a vote, as always. My vote is in favour,” I announce. Again, my phone buzzes, and I don’t bother silencing it this time. Instead, I speak over the annoying noise. “All in favour of increasing the budget for digital releases and decreasing physical media?”

Seven of the fourteen hands lift, marking the total as eight to seven, including my vote. It’s a win, but to Blake, it was too close. His disgruntled expression says more than words could.

“It’s settled, then. What’s next? Jayla, anything you wish to discuss?” I switch attention to our head of licensing, desperate for a change in discussion.

The outgoing blonde doesn’t hesitate to jump in with another numbing topic, but it’s better than listening to Blake and Arthur get into it.

I’ve just leaned back in my chair when my phone goes off again. I swallow a curse and snatch it from the table, excusing myself with a nod at Nathan. He’ll keep everyone in check in my absence while I take care of this nuisance.

Once I’ve closed the boardroom door behind me, I step into an empty room nearby and answer the insistent caller.

“What?” I snap at Bruno, one of our three heads of security.

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